


Witnessing

by WahlBuilder



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Rituals, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22416340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Zachariah is invited to a ceremony in Noctis. But he isn't sure what it is about.
Relationships: Zachariah Mancer & Niesha (Technomancer)
Kudos: 3
Collections: Hello Earth? This Is Mars...





	Witnessing

**Author's Note:**

> Orion is Salmaka's original character, everyone else is mine.

Zach nods to the guards flanking the stairs and looks over the balcony, frowning.

It is an early hour, on the cusp of sunrise, and he had just finished tinkering with his armor on the workbench when a guard brought an invitation. But he isn’t sure what he has been invited to.

He admits his first idea was to go to Andrew — but he argued to himself that waking Andrew at this hour, considering that the whole previous day Andrew was running errands with him… He discarded that thought. So, the next one was Niesha — but he imagined what she would do to him when woken up with a tiny question, and he shuddered. That, and, if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his friends. Phobos would be understanding, as he always is — but Zach has no idea where to find him.

So, that leaves Zach with Dandolo. At least, if it _is_ embarrassing, the Prince will be diplomatic about it.

There are three merchants on an ottoman on the podium, engaged in a quiet conversation, a lamp by their feet — but no sight of the Prince. Zach has heard several Noctians joke (or complain) that Dandolo doesn’t use “city time”, whatever that might be, and barely sleeps, but it seems tonight — today — is not a day like that.

Does the Prince even have his own rooms in the Palace?..

One of the merchants gets up. “Zachariah! What can I do for you?”

It _is_ the Prince.

It’s a mind-bending problem — seemingly a mild inconvenience, but twisting something in Zach’s brain nonetheless: Dandolo is no different from any other merchant. He wears the same clothes — a tunic in “Noctian azure” (Andrew has a similar one), or in “Noctian crimson”, or magnificent purple — each day in Noctis Zach meets dozens of other merchants who dress like this. Dandolo is dressed as though he’s ready to jump into the sandsail cockpit any moment — just another merchant-pilot.

In Ophir, Zach is used to the visual clues: a white coat means a Seeker, a short gray jacket — a Civilian or, with a different badge and a slightly different cut, a Lawman; the dark gray (plus the white hair) — a Mancer. An Abundance pin — on everything.

Here? The one universal thing is that all of them are Noctians. The only ones who can be reliably distinguished by their looks are the Guard, with the beaky masks and their green robes under the armor — but that’s only while on duty.

Dandolo comes to him, seemingly unconcerned with the late — or very early — hour, as energetic as always. “What troubles you, my friend?”

Zach feels a little stupid now, even though Dandolo’s tone soothes him and his attention and willingness to listen invite Zach to talk. “There is something I… It’s, ah…” he rolls his neck. “There is something I don’t know.”

A small smile quirks Dandolo’s lips. “No shame in not knowing, Zachariah. If it is something I can help you with…”

“Yeah, I think you might. One of the guards approached me and told me I am invited in an hour to something — but I’m not sure what. It is called… ‘ensoulment’?”

Dandolo’s face brightens. “Ah, Jaya decided to call upon you. Marvelous! Come! I’m attending also.”

A light touch to his shoulder — and they are leaving the balcony.

Jaya is a Noctian pilot, one of those who sometimes flies sandsails beside Amelia’s rover, for the sake of disguise (they can always say they are just a caravan), and safety and mutual help. The guard didn’t say who the invitation came from.

They go down the stairs into the guest hall, and Zach notices that Dandolo adjusts his long, swift strides to his.

“‘Ensoulment’ is a rather clumsy translation, Zachariah,” Dandolo says, his voice just loud enough for Zach to hear him. “But ‘enspiriting’ would be more so. Did you notice that sandsails have no names, usually?”

He nods. The hall is empty save for the guards by the gates, and quiet if not counting the chimes. “I wanted to ask about that. Though I did hear one or two names. ‘Regina’?”

“A fine vessel, she is. It happens, yes, that a sandsail is named after a long, long life in flight, but it is an exception rather than a rule. The lack of a name, however, doesn’t mean they don’t have a ‘soul’, so to speak, a personality.”

He nods again, glancing once in a while under his feet, trying to keep his steps quiet. A lot of people live in the Palace, and it is still too early. “Like technomantic staves. And Amelia talks about her rover like it’s a living creature. Talks _to_ the rover, too.”

Unexpectedly, they don’t leave the Palace through the gates or the side ladder, but Dandolo takes a turn from the guest hall, leading him through winding passages Zach didn’t know even existed.

“Correct. The bigger it is, the more personality it has — or is assigned to. Just look at cities.”

He stops, needing to think on it, and Dandolo halts his steps, too, seemingly with no hurry.

“That is an interesting way of putting it, Dandolo.”

Dandolo smiles again. “I’m glad. We are nearly there. It will be best for you to see.”

Zach squints when they suddenly step into the open space of the Docks. He tries to map their way mentally… Shouldn’t the Docks be two levels lower? He thinks now that when the guards joke about guests getting lost in the Palace and emerging only seasons later, they are not being far from reality.

He also thinks that it’s a part of the Docks he’s never been to before, although he isn’t certain. The Docks, scattered in different places in Noctis, are alike, though here there are windows (fake or not, he can’t tell), glazed with a green creeping plant pattern, dark now without the sun or other lights behind to illuminate them. Must be beautiful during the day. There is no cargo and there is only one vehicle, a sandsail with the wings of sails folded.

There is a small group of merchants by the ’sail — including Niesha, to his surprise. She waves to him, and he waves back.

Another merchant turns to him and smiles. “Zachariah! Thank you for taking my invitation.”

Judging by Dandolo’s being here, Jaya knows the Prince personally. But then, Zach’s coming to the conclusion that the Prince himself knows _everyone_.

Jaya is wearing the azure: the tunic, pants and a headscarf, all the same shade faded slightly from the sun. Some fabrics are dyed “wet” in Noctis, others have the pigment beaten into them, and then the skin of the wearer takes on the pigment after a time. Jaya’s hands carry the shade brought by the azure.

In Jaya’s headscarf a string of full moon metal discs is woven; an indication that in the moment Jaya is not a woman (half-moons are for that).

“Is this the first time for you?”

He shifts from foot to foot. The lack of formality is another of those mind-twisting things. Addresses like “Master” or “Mistress” or “Mix” are usually used only for, in Dandolo’s words, the easement of those who are unsettled when such words are not present.

“I’m afraid so, Jaya. Dandolo explained some of it to me, and I see it relates to a vessel — but I’m not sure of anything else.”

“Just explain it to the boy already.”

Zach nearly jumps at the gruff voice, and looks at the other merchant. Zach knows who the man is even though he hasn’t met him personally yet. The short heavy-set man is the Chief Mechanic of Noctis (Orion, Zach recalls). He’s glaring at Zach, though from what Zach knows, it’s Orion’s general glare at the whole world. Orion is wearing a vest, leaving his tattooed arms open aside from short fingerless gloves, and there is a toolbelt on his hips.

“I was _just_ getting there, _Pipi_.”

Color rushes to the man’s face so quickly Zach gets a little concerned about his health. “ _Someone_ ,” Orion says, raising a finger, “has been working all night, _Procellaria_ , making sure everything goes smoothly now. And I want to get it over with, _presto_. My bed is waiting for me.”

“Oh, sure it is,” Jaya purrs.

Now _Zach_ is certain that his face is all red.

Orion shrugs and steps away, grumbling under his nose.

“He’s always so grumpy,” Jaya says. “Zachariah, I will need you to give me something that’s on your person: a piece of thread, a bead, something small. Everyone will give something. You see, this sandsail was ruined—”

“ _Someone_ smashed it!” Orion calls.

“—in an accident,” Jaya continues smoothly, corners of eir mouth quirking, “and had to be restored nearly from scratch, which, thanks to Orion’s tireless work and unmatched skill—”

“Do go on, I’m listening,” Orion chimes in.

“—has been done perfectly. It needs to be ‘ensouled’, since it’s a completely new vessel. It is an old tradition. More accurately the term can be translated as ‘filling with the spirit’, I believe. We will act as witnesses as it is taken into the fleet. Would you still like to participate? You don’t have to if you don’t want.” Ey falls silent, looking at him.

He gives it a proper thought. He is a refugee here in Noctis, working as hard as he can because he doesn’t want to be an ungrateful burden. By giving him and his family a sanctuary, Noctis risks a lot, even though they can gain a lot, too. If everything ever comes out well.

He’s never been out of Ophir before, the old dome aside. He knew things were different in other places, that people lived differently, even considering all the various lives in Ophir itself. But that knowledge was… abstract. Something he read about in the books, heard on lectures, in stories. Here, in Noctis, he struggles sometimes; there are so many things he doesn’t know or understand: languages he’s never heard, traditions and rules of everyday life and interactions with people. It makes adjusting to the sudden changes more difficult, and at the end of the day (which sometimes happens in the actual middle of the day, or a few hours before sunrise), he is exhausted on so many levels.

But there is much excitement, too, gratefulness for these people’s patience and their willingness to answer his most stupid questions (and even telling him he shouldn’t call those questions stupid). So many new foods to try, new people to meet, new things to learn. To mourn freely and find support from new sides. He didn’t realize just how tight the clutches of Abundance, of Ophir were, until he got away and could breathe in deeply.

“I’ll be honored,” he nods.

Jaya smiles again. “You honor us with your presence. Shall we?”

They surround the sandsail — gleaming in the light of lamps on posts spread over the area, smooth, with a faint scent of metal and cured leather.

Niesha stands beside Zach and he can’t help smiling when her fingers squeeze his.

Jaya produces a small cylinder and unscrews the lid. “My friends, we’ve gathered here to commit this fine — thanks to our irreplaceable Chief Mechanic — vessel to the fleet.” Ey makes their way along the ranks of the merchants present, each of them lowering some small item into it.

Niesha procures, to Zach surprise, a tiny green-blue scale from a locust’s body, with a hole drilled into it. It shimmers when Niesha turns her hand and lowers it into the capsule.

Inside, there is a curious assortment of things — and it hits Zach with a pang in his chest, reminding him of Sean’s “treasure box” — a lacquered black box the size of a tablet, exquisite in its simplicity, filled with oddest things: bits of colored glass, strange-shaped rocks, iron nails, shards of broken ceramics…

He composes himself, hoping the mist in his eyes isn’t obvious, then lowers a bit of wire into the capsule.

Dandolo, the last in the gathering, takes a bead off one of his braids, deep-blue with white triangles.

Jaya puts something into the capsule, too, and screws the lid on, then moves to the sharp nose of the gondola and opens a compartment there. “We witness this vessel’s admittance into the fleet of Noctis,” ey says, placing the capsule inside the compartment and closing it, then takes a rope leading to the masts, and pulls. The sails open like crimson wings, the Eye, the _Ocio_ as they call it, on each of them glowing golden.

“Fly in the Shadow,” the chorus of voices wishes to the reborn vessel.

And Zach repeats to himself, quietly, “Fly in the Shadow.”


End file.
